


Felix Felicis

by verus_janus (Methleigh)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-23
Updated: 2012-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-05 20:56:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Methleigh/pseuds/verus_janus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Severus is already a Potions Master, but he lacks influence.  Told from Slughorn's and Severus' points of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Felix Felicis

Something had tripped the wards he had set on his classroom. With a sigh, Horace hoisted himself out of bed. He wished Argus had not been a squib. Then he could have left such investigations to the caretaker, in whose hands they belonged. As it was, he didn't want him meddling with his stores.

He combed his hair, glad that it retained a bit of curl, even thinning as it was. He straightened his pyjamas, then donned his quilted dressing gown, and inserted his feet into his warm slippers. It was cold in the dungeons. He gave another sigh.

He Apparated with a crack. He recognised the stringy Snape boy in the classroom's gloom. Horace remembered the mother. Nothing remarkable; pity about the family. Slytherin! He snorted. It was strange they did so well in potions. The boy's Draught of the Living Death had been perfect, but Horace had not wanted to waste Felix Felicis on such a student.

With what could he be messing about at this hour? Why, it was three am. Slytherin, too, so no doubt he would have to deal with all aspects of this foolishness. Horace squinted his eyes momentarily, in annoyance at the disturbance this had caused him. He could have been in bed, still sleeping comfortably. He sighed a third time as the boy turned, his mouth and eyes circles of surprise at his teacher's sudden appearance.

"Reducto!" Horace pulverised the cauldron, its contents, and the preparation materials the boy had been using.

* * *

It had been unfair of Slughorn to withhold the prize. Severus was Slytherin, too. Shining Felix Felicis! How his heart had bounded! How his mind had swirled with possibilities! He needed it as none of the others did. He knew he would win, for he also understood Potions as none of the others did.

For him, Potions was an art, above mere formulas. He felt the ingredients' properties, instinctively grasping the connotations of their effects, knowing infallibly how to combine them, altering them subtly but tellingly with manipulation of knife and spoon.

Of course he had won, with his Draught of the Living Death shimmering perfect. But Slughorn, prejudiced for fame and fortune, had laughed, claiming the offer of a prize had been a joke. He hadn't expected anyone to succeed, he had said.

Severus had turned the resentment over as another boy would have fingered a conker or foreign coin. At length it had come to him: he would prepare his Felix Felicis himself! It would not be stealing. He had earned it! And it would be more wonderful still than Slughorn's soulless recipe.

He had opened the storeroom, carefully sliding around and through its wards. He reasoned that he could charm the potion to hide it while it seasoned. He could visit it at night, tending its small daily needs when there was no-one to observe.

It hadn't occurred to him that an open classroom would be warded. As Slughorn destroyed the beginnings of his work, his heart sunk to despair again.


End file.
